A dead bride
by AAB
Summary: A staff sergeant is found murdered just days before her wedding. Who wanted this bride-to-be dead


_Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them_

**The dead bride  
**

"You don't know the Sound of Music? The most romantic movie of the 20th century? Never dreamt away at the romance of a nun and a captain? Or of a rich girl and the delivery boy?"  
Tony couldn't believe it.  
"You don't know the songs?"  
Ziva shook her head. "Nope."  
"Never heard this one?" he tried again, humming "I am sixteen, going on seventeen" and making some dance moves, mimicking the ones he had seen in the movie. Suddenly he fell dead in his tracks, almost bumping into his superior agent Gibbs who as usual seemed to appear out of nowhere. One look from the older man was enough to make him stop fooling around and quickly scramble back to his desk. His co-workers Ziva and Timothy McGee bit back a grin.  
Gibbs' phone rang. A moment later he looked up. "Grab your gear. Dead marine in Silver Spring."

That marine turned out to be staff sergeant Cassidy McGregor. She was lying on her back on a footpath. A small round hole in her shirt, surrounded by a bit of blood and some black stippling indicated she was shot at close range.  
Next to the body an elderly man kneeled. Dr. Mallard, aka Ducky looked up. "The poor woman was shot," he declared. "Time of death about three hours ago. Dead on impact, I presume, although I can't tell for sure until I have examined her"  
A bit stiffly he rose and beckoned his assistant Jimmy to come and help him rolling over the body. Tim hurried to make pictures. "A through and through," Dr. Mallard pointed to a similar hole, although without the stippling, in the back of the marine. "Seeing the angle you will have to look over there for the bullet." His hand made a gesture indicating an area with grass and trees.  
He looked at Tim, who had been snapping pictures while he spoke. "Can we take her?"  
"Just one more minute," the young agent said. Gibbs watched his subordinate do his job. Then he ordered "Tony and Tim, find that bullet. Ziva, with me." Without waiting he headed for the nearest building. According to the big sign in front it was Greenway Party Centre.  
Inside the building they were met by a shocked and agitated man in his fifties, announcing himself as Judge Greenway, the owner.  
"Did you know the victim?"  
"Yes, she was Cass McGregor. We met several times. She was going to be married in a two weeks and the party was to be held here. "  
"What can you tell us about her?"  
The proprietor turned towards his desk. "I have her address and the address of her fiancé here. His name is Jack Branson. But they seemed very happy together and excited to get married. She was a nice woman, Cass. Very reasonable. Relaxed. Not like a lot of brides. You know, I can deal with the normal bride's nerves. There are bitches! I could tell you stories …" He shook his head. "I could imagine someone shot one of those but Cass… no!"  
"What do you mean, one of those? Do you have a special person in mind?"  
"No. That wasn't what I meant. But some brides-to-be turn out to be real bitches. Controlling, demanding, commanding, bullying. Not only me but their whole environment. Wanting a dollar wedding for a dime price. Pain-in-the-ass doesn't even start to describe it. I could imagine someone had enough of being bullied around and shot one of those brides from hell but Cass wasn't like that. Not at all!"  
He handed over both Cass' as well as Jack's contact details. "I'm sorry I can't be or more help."  
"Who found the body?"  
"That will be Peter. He is an intern." He tilted his head. "He is in the back. Young lad, pretty shaken."  
On their way to the back of the building Ziva feltl back in her steps, distracted by a loud voice.  
"Suck it up! It's _my_ wedding and _I_ decide!" Through an open door she caught a glimpse of a large hall. Two women were inside, a feisty young Afro-American in a royal blue dress with a sash, hands on hips, who was addressing a timid looking white woman with a clipboard. She opened her mouth but was cut short. "You're my wedding planner, do your job! And do it right!"  
The Afro-American woman turned on her heels and started to march to the door. Ziva rushed to catch up with Gibbs. He didn't like waiting and she didn't want to be caught eavesdropping.  
In the backroom Peter was clutching a cup of coffee like it was his lifebuoy. Taking a sip it took both hands to keep the cup steady. Gibbs knew a quiet approach was necessary. He sat himself at the table as well.  
"Well son, I heard you found the body. What can you tell me"  
"Not much, Sir." The young man knew a man of importance when he saw one.  
"Let's start at the beginning. What is your name? What is your job here?" He gestured to Ziva to make notes but she already had the pen on the paper.  
"I'm Peter Ayres. I work here as an intern. I study for a job in catering. Mr. Judge is a good boss. I learn a lot." He seemed to relax somewhat.  
"What happened today?"  
"Mr Judge ordered me to pick up some stuff. There was a delay in delivering yesterday and we needed those paper cups and napkins. They are specially made, you see. People can have them with an image off their choice." He sounded proud.  
"When I came back I parked the car next to the building and carried the boxes inside through the backdoor. Then I relocated the car. Mr. Judge wants it parked in the parking lot at the front. So people can see it. As an extra advertisement. I walked back to the main entrance and there she was." His voice had gone into a whisper.  
"What did you do?"  
"Nothing, I … I screamed, I guess." His hands tightened round the coffee cup once more and his lips trembled.  
"Relax. You're doing great." Gibbs waited a moment to give the youngster time to recover.  
"Did you touch her?"  
"No! She was dead, right?! I couldn't …"  
"Yes, she was dead."  
"I couldn't have saved her, could I? I mean, if I had been braver…"  
"No. There was nothing you could have done. Our ME already said she was probably dead on impact. But did you touch her?"  
"I didn't do anything," the lad started to panic.  
"No, no, we are not accusing you. We just have to know. Because when we find trace material we have to determine whether it's yours or from the murderer." Ziva stepped in.  
Gibbs nodded his agreement. "Can you draw me a map?" he asked. "Like where you parked the car and how you walked back?"  
Ziva handed Pete a piece of paper and a pen and the intern started to draw. "This is the building," he explained. "And here are the parking lots. First I went here," he dotted a line. "And then I reparked the car here and walk from there to the door. "Another dotted line. "Here Cass was lying." He marked the spot with an x. "When I saw her I stood still. I didn't dare to come closer. Then I took a wide curve around her and ran." He hung his head.  
"You did well, "Gibbs reassured him. "There was nothing you could do for the … so not disturbing the crime scene was the best thing to do. Did you know Cassidy McGregor?"  
"Yes, No."  
Gibbs raised his brows.  
"I mean, I've seen her around and Mr. Judge told her about her upcoming wedding but I never talked to her myself." Peter hastened to explain.  
"Did you hear or see anything?"  
"No," he shook his head.  
Gibbs slowly nodded. "That will be all for now. We might be back if there are more questions. Agent David will work out her notes and you will have to sign your statement."

The next interview was with Jack Branson, the grieving fiancé. He was devastated and acted numb, like someone had hit him over the head. Gibbs had to repeat questions several times and still Jack had little to contribute. Cass had been well liked, both by her family and her friends as her neighbours and colleagues. He had seen her for the last time that morning, shortly before she went to the party centre to discuss the last details. He had gone to the office shortly after. There were a dozen co-workers to testify he had been there all morning. Gibbs asked for enemies, anyone who could have a grudge against Cass but Jack couldn't think of anyone. Of course there had been disagreements with co-workers, but those had been pure businesslike and hadn't left a mark.  
"I don't understand. Everyone loved her," he kept saying.

Finally there was Cass' CO, Major Menard. He confirmed his staff sergeant had been well liked and there hadn't been any animosity between her and her co-workers. He confirmed she had had the morning off and had planned to go to the party centre. No one of her co-workers had had the day off, all were accounted for. It seemed they had hit a dead end.

Downstairs in the autopsy room Ducky bent down over the staff sergeant.  
"I promise we will find the one who did this to you," he whispered into her ear. Used to the doctor's conversations with the dead, Jimmy was waiting for his boss to make the first cut. The two men worked for an hour before Ducky was ready to sew up the body again. And, right on cue, in walked Gibbs.  
"What do you have for me, Ducky?"  
"Hello Jethro," was the answer. "Not much, I'm afraid. Cause of death is, as expected, a gunshot at close range. No hairs, no fibres, no fingernail scrapings. Her clothes are with Abby but I doubt whether they will yield much. I don't think she saw it coming; she has a bit of a surprised look on her face."  
Gibbs looked grim but he knew better than to contradict the older man. Dr. Mallard was usually right in his observations.  
"Tony and Tim found the bullet. Probably a .22."  
The doctor nodded. "That's about right. I'm sorry that I haven't more to contribute, Jethro."  
Gibbs next stop was the lab. Abby was busy trying to match the bullet but whatever database she used, every time the computer answered with the annoying beeps of 'no match found'. The blouse didn't bring new insights either. Gunshot residue was present but that was all. Abby confirmed the shot was fired from close distance, probably no more than two feet away.  
Behind his desk Tim had been checking any paper trail he could think of. Diplomas, licenses, bank accounts, criminal records but except for one or two speeding tickets Cassidy McGregor was squeaky clean.  
The first day of the investigation ended with no leads and no idea where to go next.

As did the next days. The extensive door to door examination left the agents empty handed: no one had seen or heard anything. Tim checked all the cars on the parking lot; all were accounted for, being either from residents, visitors or employees of neighbouring companies. It seemed like Cass had been the victim of a random murder.  
Cass' will was read but also it brought no surprises. Cui bono, who benefits, didn't seem to be the clue either. After a few days Gibbs was hard to live with.

That morning Ziva and Tim escaped his foul mood. Ziva wanted to look around the party centre once more, hoping against all hope to find something previously overlooked. Inside they were met by Mr. Greenway.  
"Are you any closer to finding the killer?" he wanted to know.  
"No," Tim shook. "That's why we want to look around again."  
"Be my guest. Anything I can do to help. Do you mind if I go back to work? I have a client."  
"Okay."  
Slowly the agents walked the premises.  
"What do you think to find?" McGee asked.  
"I don't know. New insights, I hope," was his partner's answer.  
Walking back inside they found a tired looking Mr. Greenway seeing out a young African-American woman, with another woman carrying a large bag and a clipboard in tow. Ziva recognized the first woman as the one she had seen the day of the murder but the other woman was not the same.  
When the women were out of ear shot he sighed. "Talk about brides from hell. She really is one of the worst I ever met."  
"What's her name?" Ziva asked, more to make conversation than that she really wanted to know.  
"LaTeesha Willis. A really bridezilla. She heard about the murder and was here to claim the large hall the same day." He looked apologizing. "I hope it's not a problem I hired it out again; I have to make a living and harsh as it sounds, a murder is bad for business."  
"It's okay," McGee reassured him. "We finished processing and since the murder occurred outside ..."  
The man smiled relieved and kept on talking about the things he had experienced with his customers.

Back at the office Ziva sat herself to work, with the help of an eager Timothy McGee and an equally willing-to-help Abby. Two days later they were ready to present the fruits of their labour.  
Making a little joke McGee had put a picture of a large dinosaur in a wedding dress on the big screen. Ziva snickered when she saw it but Gibbs was not amused  
"What's that supposed to be?" he asked gruffly.  
"She is a…" She snapped her fingers "A Bridillo."  
"Bridezilla," Tony laughed. "From Godzilla." He bared his teeth, mouth open and turned his hands into claws, mimicking the giant Japanese dinosaur.  
"Ouch."  
Gibbs, frustrated with the lack of progress and fed up with his agent's antics, had delivered one of his famous head smacks.  
"What do you have?"  
Ziva started again. "When we were at the party centre for the first time I witnessed a couple of women arguing in one of the halls. When we spook to Mr. Greenway for the second time she was there, too. Remember Mr Greenway told us about the very demanding brides? Afterwards he told me this was one of them, one of the worst he ever experienced. LaTeesha Willis. She had already worn out three wedding planners and she had even threatened to sue him for not having the large hall available. That made me think and Abby, Tim and I checked a few things." She nodded at McGee who pulled up the first item on the big screen. It was LaTeesha's driver's licence. Then there was she car she rode, a dark green Ford Sierra.  
"It was on the car park at the front when we arrived," Ziva said. "And at first it made perfect sense since she and her wedding planner were in the party centre to discuss some logistics. But then we cast a wider net and look, there is an identical car driving just one street away from the centre just after the murder. Due to the angle the camera we can't see the driver's face but he or she definitely has black hair. It is heading the other way but by checking every ATM and traffic camera Tim managed to follow it …"  
In the mean time McGee pulled up picture after picture from a camera, the final one being LaTeesha stepping out of her car.  
"… back to the party centre," Ziva ended her sentence. "He was also able to retrieve the car arriving at the back parking lot the first time. Unfortunately the camera at the entrance is broken so we don't have pictures of the car on the parking lot. However, we retrieved some tire tracks and when we get a warrant we can compare them with the tires of LaTeesha's car."  
McGee pulled up the next screen.  
"LaTeesha doesn't own a gun. Her fiancé on the other hand has quite a few, among them a .22. He is an active member of Silver Springs Shooting Club. I talked to the manager and he confirmed they both are regular visitors, LaTeesha using the .22 most of the time. She is a good markswoman and he witnessed her carrying it around in her purse."  
"Motive?" Gibbs asked.  
"She wanted the wedding of her dreams and Cass and Jack were in the way. They had rented the large hall LaTeesha wanted herself. So she killed her."  
Slowly the agent nodded. Except for his first marriage he always had left it to his brides to work out the details.  
"Right. Bring her in."

The next day, five days before the wedding she so desperately had wanted, LaTeesha Willis was formerly charged with the premeditated murder of staff sergeant Cassidy McGregor.  
She received a 25 years sentenced, without the possibility of parole.

The end


End file.
